Give Me Yesterday Page 8

  Her icy blue eyes shine like the bluest of seas. One day, I hope to take her to an exotic beach in the Caribbean just to see if it will dull the beauty of the ocean by being in direct comparison to the unmatched splendor that are her incredibly expressive eyes.

  “You make me weak,” she breathes out, her sweet scent teasing me with my mouth just inches from hers.

  Dipping my nose to hers, I graze it with mine. “I’m here to carry you.”

  “What if I don’t want to be carried?” she mutters and her eyes flutter closed.

  I don’t answer her and seal my lips against hers, kissing her with a softness that I hope conveys my promise to help her. A small moan escapes, and it’s far from sexual. It’s a moan releasing some of her strength—letting me be strong for her. Drawing her closer to me, I deepen our kiss, tangling my tongue with hers. Her fingers clutch onto my shirt, begging me not to let go.

  I’m not ever going to fucking let go.

  “Chase,” she mutters between kisses.

  The sound is innocent and young. I want to protect her and hold her close to me without any desire to ever let go.

  “I’m scared.”

  This confuses me so I break from her and press a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Why are you scared, Tori?”

  She sniffles but her hands trail up my chest to where she clutches onto my neck. “I’ve always been strong. For them. To keep their memory buried deep in my heart where it’s safe.”

  I narrow my eyes at her and wait for her to continue, stealing another peck on her cheek.

  “If I open myself up, give you part of my burden…” she trails off with a shudder, as if the very idea frightens her, “…I might lose them forever. What if it makes me forget? What I had with them? I don’t think there’s room for anything else. I’m so sorry.”

  Her words gut me, but I won’t be deterred. She’s mine as far as I’m concerned. Nobody, not even Stalking Savvy, has ever come close to understanding my pain. Crushing loss. Self-loathing. Guilt and a desire to change the past—to reweave the threads of time and create a new masterpiece that includes them.

  Tori gets my pain.

  I get Tori’s pain.

  Every Tuesday when I go visit the cemetery, I kick trees and punish the earth with my fists. I cry out to God and beg for him to rewind time. To give her a second chance at life.

  Life’s not fair.

  Mother’s words haunt me like always.

  “Tori,” I press my lips to hers and then pull away to stare at her with a glare that expresses that I will not let her give up on me. “Sometimes being strong for the other person means determining what’s best for them, even when they think they know best. You’re already used to me manhandling you…”

  She pops her mouth open to argue but I dive in for a kiss that I drain all of my passion and determination into. I need her to feel my strength—a strength I didn’t even know I possessed.

  “…now it’s time for me to manhandle your heart.”

  The doorbell rings and I reluctantly tear away from her. Her eyes are flitting about with a thousand thoughts dancing in her head.

  “Jesus, Tori,” I chuckle in a way meant to poke at her. “Is that how you show up to all your dinner dates? Maybe you should put something more presentable on before we have dinner.”

  Her more comfortable emotion, the feisty one that I love, rises to the surface and she flips me off. But it serves to break the thick tension.

  “Asshole. I’m probably the best-looking date you’ve ever had,” she teases back with a smile, “even in this get-up.”

  I wink at her. “There’s no denying that, baby. We both know who the good looking one in this relationship is.”

  Before she can argue that I just declared us to be in a relationship, I bounce out of the small bathroom and trot to the front door to pay for the pizza.

  I’ll fill that girl up one way or another.

  Her belly.

  Her heart.

  And maybe a few other places too if I’m lucky.

  Last night, Tori and I made great strides. The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. I think I’m growing on her. She let me steal kisses but I didn’t once try and push her for more. It was evident she was punishing herself for letting things progress. I don’t want her to regret anything when it comes to us. If that means going slower, then I’ll become a turtle.

  A very handsy turtle that likes his tongue down her throat.

  But a turtle nevertheless.

  “Dr. Monroe,” a voice chirps, stealing me from my thoughts of Tori.

  “Mmm?”

  Mack plops down beside me at the table in the Media Center. It’s Wednesday and their projects are due this coming Friday. By the frustrated scowl on his face, I’d say he’s having issues.

  “This sucks.”

  I bellow with laughter but when the attendant at the desk shoots me a scathing look, I choke it back. “Of course it sucks. It’s a research paper. Research papers suck.”

  He groans and shoves his paper at me. “How much more work do I have on this? I don’t think it’s good enough.”

  I take it from him and spend the next few minutes reading through. In all honesty, he’s done an excellent job tackling the subject I warned them not to choose. I’d give him an A for the paper.

  “It’s worth a low B,” I lie and shove it back across the table to him.

  “Well, shit. Bs won’t get me the job at the hospital. What do I need to work on?”

  Mack’s a great student despite his cutting up most of the time. “Research some more. Add some more citations. It could use a bit more meat.”

  He nods, and with a new determination that will serve him well in his career, he bounds off, back toward the computers to continue his research.

  “You lie for shit,” Cort laughs and sits next to me.

  I shrug my shoulders. “It’s good for him. Did you finish yours?”

  He nods. “Yep, but you don’t get it until it’s due. Unlike Mack over there, I know my paper is an A and I’m not letting you con me into doing more busy work.”

  I chuckle and am on the receiving end of another nasty look from the attendant. With apologetic hands, I raise them and mouth I’m sorry to her. Her clipped nod indicates she accepts my apology but not to do it again or she’ll shove a dictionary up my ass.

  “How’s the new chick?”

  I’ve told him a little about Tori but didn’t want to divulge much. She still feels like my little secret. Just like my group. I want to protect and defend her against any would-be naysayers.

  Not that Cort would ever have anything negative to say.

  “Her name’s Tori,” I remind him, “and she’s special.”

  “Like Savvy special?” he questions with a groan.

  I hold back the eruption of laughter so I can keep my asshole a virgin. “No, you idiot. Special like could-be-the-one, special.”

  His eyes widen in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone was up for the Chase after all.”

  I beam at him and thread my fingers together behind my head, leaning back in my chair. Staring up at the ceiling I think of her sweet, swollen lips. The way she came apart in my arms from the simplest friction between us. If only she knew…I had so much more in my arsenal to make her feel again.

  “Quite the opposite, man,” I sigh. “I’m doing all the chasing.”

  “And she’s worth the Chase?”

  Turning my head to him, I grin. “She’s worth every damn second.”

  “Dr. Monroe,” Mrs. Schrage gasps when I saunter into her flower shop after class. “It’s Wednesday. I think.”

  I chuckle because after years and years of coming here every Tuesday like clockwork, I’m sure she’s confused as to why I’m here on a Wednesday. Especially after having just been here yesterday.

  “I need flowers. Happy ones. Ones that say, ‘You’re always on my mind and are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ Maybe some blue ones.”
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  She widens her eyes. Normally when I come in here, she has my order ready and we don’t converse much. Tuesdays usually leave me in a shitty mood and I’m sure it’s felt by all. Seeing me chipper probably sends more confusion bouncing around in her head.

  “Um, well, let’s see. We have some tulips in your favorite color,” she starts but I wave her off.

  “I want blue today.”

  “Right, okay, well, we just had a shipment of the most gorgeous irises delivered today. Would you care to see them?”

  I nod and lean against the counter while she shuffles off. Snatching a card from the rack, I scribble out a note to Tori.

  Have dinner with me, beautiful. I hope these flowers brighten your day and you think of me no matter how hard you try not to. Pick you up at six. For the love of God, wear jeans woman. —C—

  “Ahh,” Mrs. Schrager chirps, “here they are and they smell lovely.”

  The moment I lay eyes on the dainty, blue flowers, I smile. They’ll compliment her bright blue eyes perfectly and hopefully bring a smile to her soft, pouty lips.

  “I’ll take them.”

  Back to myself, the woman I know and am comfortable with. I step through the glass doors of my office building, impeccably dressed in a maroon skirt with a slight flare just above the knee, white blouse, fitted jacket, subtle makeup, my standard five-inch stilettos, and not a hair out of place. I want to sigh at the feeling of safety, retreated behind my armor. This is my comfort zone.

  I walk swiftly to the elevator, my heels clacking on the cold, marble floor. Every tap reminding me that Victoria, the Ice Queen, is back. I’ve left the messy, blubbering, vulnerable Tori back at Cha—that place I was last night. I’m not going to think about it, about him. Get it together Tor—Victoria.

  In the elevator, I’m standing amongst a couple of first year associates from my firm, who are casting me curious glances, and one of the two girls even opens her mouth to speak to me. I lift a single brow and give them a frigid stare, effectively shutting her up before she can say anything. Great, Cha—that guy from yesterday, undermined the persona I’ve been cultivating for five damn years. Jackass. A sliver of guilt at my thoughts weasels its way into my chest, remembering how he was so sweet last night, not giving up on me, nor freaking out when I fell apart.

  Whatever.

  The ping of the elevator startles me and I step onto the plush, gray carpet, and give Janice, the receptionist, a nod. Her eyes are glued to me, almost like she is searching for something, I freeze her out like I did the associates, and she quickly turns back to her desk. This is going to be exhausting.

  Stacey is at her desk, tapping away on her computer. Her head lifts as though she sensed I was near. She smiles and stands, extending a mug of coffee to me, stopping me dead in my tracks. Stacey doesn’t smile at me. She doesn’t bring me coffee. What the fuck? Warmth seeps through the subzero aura I’ve put up. A trickle of something…fuzzy? I’m thrown off kilter a little, so I simply nod, take the coffee and step to the door of my office. Before I disappear inside, I turn back and stretch the unused muscles of my face into a small smile of thanks. Stacey’s smile grows, her face lighting up, and it’s the first time I notice that she’s really a very pretty girl, with her shoulder length, honey brown hair, expressive green eyes, and curvy figure. At the sight of her elation, the fuzzy feeling tickles my throat a little, so I continue on into my office.

  My office is more my home than my apartment. There aren’t any personal photos, however there are multitudes of awards scattered among the walls and shelves. This place is my haven, where I rule in solitary, but not alone. Lowering myself into the ridiculously comfortable desk chair, I get to work. I have tons of catchup to do from my early leave yesterday.

  I’m interrupted shortly after when Stacey softly knocks on my door and enters.

  “What is it, Stacey? I’m very behind and I just got to work. Can it wait?” I keep the harshness out of my tone, but there is no mistaking my impatience.

  Her step falters for a second, a look of uncertainty on her face. “Um, Ms. Larkin, it’s noon. You’ve been working for the last five hours without a break. You have a delivery and I thought maybe you’d like to order some lunch.”

  I sigh, telling my inner bitch to back off, and try not to jump to conclusions in the future. “I’m sorry, Stacey.” Her eyes get wide. What the hell? I may be introverted, but it’s not like I was rude or didn’t speak to her at all in the past. Want to try that again? Because I smell bullshit. Was I that bad? Okay, new rule: aloof but present. “I misjudged the time. Thank you for being so efficient.” Robot, robot, robot. “Um, yes, please order me a salad from that place around the corner and go ahead and bring in the delivery. Um, and, thank you.”

  She kicks up one side of her mouth in a secretive smile, and spins on her heel, returning to her desk. After a moment, she shuffles back in with the most beautiful bouquet of blue irises I have ever seen. They bloom up from a lovely glass vase, swirling with frosted etchings. The moment she enters, the fragrance permeates the air and the sweet smell fills my lungs. All of the oxygen rushes back out as my heart pumps wildly.

  Stacey sets them on my desk, and passes me an accompanying note. She shuffles from foot to foot for a second and I can see that she really wants to stay and find out who they are from and what the note says. I open it, and tell her, “They are from Chase, the guy who dragged me out of here against my will yesterday.”

  Stacey’s cheeks get pink with excitement, but that’s all I’m willing to share.

  “Would you see about my lunch…please?” I tack that last word on, knowing I’m usually barking orders without thought. I don’t know why I feel the need to change these subtle things. My life is just the way I like it. See? This is why Chase is a bad influence and someone I should stay far away from.

  Reluctantly, Stacey returns to her cubicle and once she is gone, the door firmly closed, I open the note and read it. The fuzzy feeling grows with each heavy beat of my heart, the warmth becoming a burn. I read it again and shake my head. He didn’t ask, he simply ordered me to have dinner with him. I should turn him down, just for that. I reach for the phone, but my hand stalls halfway there. I’m super busy, and he teaches today, I should wait until later to cancel.

  I arrange the flowers on the glass coffee table in the center of my little conversation nook across the room. Twisting and turning the vase until I’m satisfied that I’ll have the best view of it from my desk. Then I get to work and don’t look at them again. Liar, liar… I don’t look at them much. Pants on fire… Ok, I glance at them every ten minutes or so, thinking of Chase, and enjoying the tickle in my chest that they bring.

  After lunch I become engrossed once again, but am interrupted by the beeping of my intercom. I press the button and Stacey informs me that my mother is on hold. The warmth, the fuzz, the tickle, they all freeze, snuffed out by the bitter cold that sweeps over my body. I don’t like talking to my family. They refuse to accept my wishes, of not speaking about the past. Always forcing memories on me, pushing me to “accept” what happened and let go. I get angry and on its heels comes sadness. Chaotic emotions that I want no part of. I should have sent in that RSVP card with my regrets already, but I suppose I might as well take the call now and get it over with.

  “Put her though, Stacey.” I shore up my strongest, thickest wall, preparing for the disappointment in her voice, and pick up the phone when it beeps again.

  “Hello, Mother,” I answer.

  “Victoria! I’m so glad you decided to come to the wedding! Danielle is ecstatic! It’s all she can talk about since we got your card!” Wait, I didn’t…

  “Mother, there must be some kind—” I start.

  “And a plus one!” She goes on without noticing I’d begun to speak. “Victoria, I’m so happy. I’m just so happy for my little girl. He must be very special for you to be bringing him home to a family wedding. I can’t tell you how excited we all are.”

  Plus one? It
dawns on me … I’m going to kill Stacey. My thoughts then go to Chase, and I realize this had to be a conspiracy from collaboration. They are both going to get skewered.

  “I know you’re busy, darling. Always working too hard. So, you can tell me all about him this weekend.” Her voice gets thick and I fight not to bang my head down on the desk. Tears. I don’t do tears. “I’ll see you Saturday. I love you, Victoria. They would be happy that you’re moving on.” I stiffen, every muscle in my body tight. Anger emanates in waves, but before I can express my rage, she hangs up.

  “Stacey!” I yell. “Get in here!” I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

  She enters timidly, her eyes wary. “Is everything, okay?”

  “What the hell were you thinking sending in that RSVP card accepting, and with a plus one?” My voice is getting progressively louder, and when I reach a full yell, she flinches.

  “Chase marked it. I figured you had discussed it beforehand.”

  She’s wringing her hands in front of her, and I’m not sure if she is making an excuse or not. Either way it’s done now, and she is the best assistant I’ve ever had, so it’s not like I’m going to fire her.

  “Stacey, lets be very clear, you will always check with me before dealing with anything personal.” She nods, and tears are brimming in her eyes, “Now, go back to work, and we’ll forget this happened.” She sags in relief and beats a hasty retreat, back to her desk.

  Now, as for that scheming, overly confident, obnoxiously determined tool. I snatch up my cell and scroll to his number, but before I hit call, I decide this needs to be dealt with in person. I need to cut things off, once and for all.

  It’s five minutes to six when my phone buzzes, alerting me to a call from the front desk. Gary informs me that I have a guest and I tell him to send him up. It’s time he accepts the real me, so I’m inviting him into my home, the sterile, cold environment a reflection of myself. I wait by the door, checking to make sure I am completely put together, still in my work suit. The doorbell rings and I swing it open, gesturing for him to enter.